


Marauders Era One-Shots and Headcanons

by JustLikeMySoul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: F/M, I have no idea what I'm doing, M/M, cri, first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLikeMySoul/pseuds/JustLikeMySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Florist and Tattoo Artist (with swapped roles) AU prompt</p>
    </blockquote>





	Marauders Era One-Shots and Headcanons

**Author's Note:**

> Florist and Tattoo Artist (with swapped roles) AU prompt

The bell above the door chimed as Sirius began watering the hanging plants that his brother had hung much too high above his head.

“I’ll be there in just a second!” he called, checking his watch to see if the shop was indeed open, and apparently, it was already 9:00. Sirius set his watering can down and began weaving through the huge displays of plants to the front of the shop. 

“Okay!” he called back, turning at the sound of Sirius’s voice. His eyes were a shade of green-gray, like lichen-y rock, and they looked much too gray to be natural with the contrast of the single, emerald and gold stud in his left ear. He looked like the type of guy who would blush, then proceed to slap him if Sirius ever decided to flirt. Though, he was actually slightly taller than Sirius was, the overall uncomfortably awkward aura he positively glowed with made him seem a lot shorter. With his looks, he should’ve been one of the run-of-the-mill nerds that came in periodically to buy huge bouquets which had some deep, symbolic meaning in the Victorian language of flowers. 

Though, from his way of dressing, he definitely wasn’t. He wore ripped skinny jeans that looked tight enough to cut off all circulation to his legs, and Sirius had to immediately look up before he was caught staring. There was a portion of a swirling tattoo of something that looked vaguely like a dark gray plume of smoke peeking out of the collar of his black leather jacket studded with shiny golden studs. 

“Yes…er- hi!” Sirius greeted, snapping his attention to the boy’s eyes as he leaned over the counter, almost nose-to-nose with Sirius’s face.

“Hey there,” he answered with an accent that was posh with the barest tint of Scottish, “I work in the tattoo parlor next door. My friend wants me to get flowers for the décor, thinks something nice to look at will take the customer’s mind off of things.” Sirius was just about to slip into his usual suave character and say something brilliantly cheesy along the lines of ‘you’re something nice to look at’ followed by a wink, which would usually lead people (guys, girls, and everything in between) to fall in love immediately. “Have anything for me?”

Sirius forced his mind to start working properly. “Um, sure! What does the inside of the parlour look like?” 

He cocked his head to the side to think, causing the beanie to slide across his scalp and rest at an effortlessly jaunty angle. “Er- Black walls with designs painted in lighter monochrome…” he said at last, “oh, there’s a wall covered with pictures of some of our best work. There are leather chairs, mostly black, and some ebony wood furniture as well.”

“Do you want the flowers to mean anything?” Sirius asked, not caring if he sounded like a complete geek in front of the tattoo guy. He just hoped that he would stay long enough to get his number…maybe even a date. The guy shifted closer, the collar of his jacket dropping slightly to reveal that the tattoo on his neck was not actually a plume of smoke, but a wolf, formed from curling abstract designs. 

“Hmm?” tattoo-guy hummed, eyebrows furrowing.

“Flowers have different meanings,” Sirius explained, “Different colors of the same type too. Yellow roses, for instance, symbolize friendship, while pink and red stand for love and dark roses stand for grief. Sometimes even the amount of flowers can symbolize something.”

“Wow,” he said, sounding vaguely amazed. “How ‘bout death and destruction?” he asked, almost teasingly.

“Well…Lilies are associated with funerals, they symbolize the innocence of the soul of the departed, by the way. Chrysanthemums are also symbolic of death and are only used on gravestones or in funerals in many parts of the world. Though in America they’re seen as happy,” Sirius rambled, briefly wondering when he’d memorized so many flower facts.

The boy just stared for a few seconds, before letting out a short chuckle, “Wow, I guess I’ll just take some lilies then, probably white. I don’t want James to spend all of our savings on flowers!” 

Sirius pretended to gasp in horror. “Too many flowers?! There’s no such thing!” He laughed again, for someone who seemed intimidating at first glance, he laughed a lot.

“Well you’re the expert,” he shot back with a smile that could be taken as flirty though Sirius immediately dismissed the idea. People like him went for leather-clad bikers with rough pasts or like...girls, not florists who had to work at their little brother’s shop for money and wore aprons over trackpants on a regular basis.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Sirius had to look away with a blush.

“What are those, Sirius?” the boy asked, pointing to a spot to Sirius's right. “Oh, and I’m Remus by the way!” Sirius briefly wondered how the other boy knew his name before he glanced down at the nametag he'd forgotten was pinned to his embarrassingly canary yellow apron,

Sirius followed the boy’s gaze to a pot of rich, dark maroon roses and gave an approving nod. “Those are called black roses though they’re actually a dark red. Flower-naming people are pretty much all bloody nutters. 

“I’ll take those too,” Remus decided, “oh, and some potting soil.”

“Done and done,” Sirius replied, inserting the numbers into the cash register, and accepting the crumpled bills Remus handed him before asking. "You need help getting these to your car?”

“No need, like said before, the parlour is just down the street, like three stores from here,” Remus replied, rolling up his long sleeves to reveal a small tattoo on his wrist, a small string of letters that read something like “ _Gryffindor_ ”, hmm, strange.

“Well, I have no other customers, so I’ll help you anyway,” Sirius insisted, throwing a huge bag of potting soil over one shoulder and trudging towards the door. The city was finally waking up, day students from the local private school, Hogwarts, running along the cobblestone paths to get to the nearest bus stop and almost tripping Sirius as he shoved the door open with his other shoulder.

“There’s really no need!” Remus protested, chasing after Sirius with a tray full of bright white stargazer lilies, “I don’t want to trouble you too much!”

“Oh, my dear Remus, can’t you see I’m trying to save you from the sad, sad fate of gaining upper-body strength?” Sirius asked dramatically, turning back to grin at the other boy. “C’mon, the sooner we get these flowers to your place, the sooner I can take you out to the deli in Godric’s Hollow!”

Remus didn’t protest, just exhaled a disbelieving laugh and followed Sirius into the sunlight.


End file.
